Tuesday, August 14, 2007

No Sex, Please

Another incredibly close call, readers. On the eve of heading off for a week with the kids and parents in rural Pennsylvania -- where I could not break my no-more-sex vow even if I wanted to -- I was sitting in my office, catching up on some work so that I could be gone for a week without fear of nastiness upon my return, when I got a text message from young T. (As a general rule, I despise the text message, but I have modified my position somewhat since they only seem to come from people who want me to fuck them.) Young T. had not been able to follow through on Tuesday evening, but now his parents were still on vacation, and we wanted me to come by and fuck him.

And, well, I believe that children (he's 24, for the record) are the future, so how could I say no? I suppose that I could have said no on the theory that I really didn't have time to play, but a session with T. rarely lasts more than half an hour, door to door, and, well, I wanted to fuck him.

T. had mentioned, in our conversations since our most recent hookup, how much he enjoyed what I did to his nipples, so when he opened the door, I grabbed both of them and twisted them as I kissed him. He melted, and we stood there doing the same thing for a couple of minutes before he took me upstairs. To his parents room.

I suppose there are a few reasons why a guy might choose to be fucked by another guy in his parents' bed, but none of them is really all the pleasant to contemplate, so I told my internal voice what I always tell my internal voice: "Shut up and fuck." I put T. on his back and slid atop him, still kissing and working the nipples. His breath smelled a bit of poppers, which seemed premature, but whatever. I started on one nip with my lips and then my teeth. T. keeps getting better at taking nip work; I reckon he's up to a seven now, and he never complained about biting. Still, I stopped before it got really rough. Maybe next time.

After not too long, he decided he needed to go down on me, and after not too long of that, I decided I needed to eat his ass at the same time. I alternated tongue and fingers/thumb (the boy is very clean) until he decided that he needed to be fucked.

T. started out by sitting on my cock. He has very thick, longish curly black hair, and it shakes a lot when he's bouncing up and down on my cock. I thought for a moment that it was like fucking Medusa, and I had to stifle a giggle, but we were both pretty into it. I lay him back into X position for a while, then I got on my knees and fucked him face-to-face.

I was pounding him with his head hanging off the foot of the bed, and everything was going according to plan when it suddenly occurred to me that I might actually cum. I may have made some excited noises because T. started telling me to cum. That always horns me up big time, and not long after, I was filling the condom. Then T. was handing me a towel and thanking me, and then I was getting dressed. It might have been thirty-five minutes door-to-door, but it was still definitely a quickie.

I was momentarily overcome with a feeling of shame. Not for fucking a guy, nor yet for fucking a guy in his parents' bed. I don't think I'd be able to fuck a guy in my parents' bed, but, well, the situation never has and never will arise. The shame was for having sex after I'd sworn never to have any again. But then I realized that I had indeed fucked a guy in his parents' bed, and intercourse in a bed is only sex if the bed is the bed of one of the guys participating in the intercourse. I'll pause a moment while you parse that. I realize that none of you is probably as practiced as I am in pretending that sex isn't sex interpreting the minutiae of the Guidelines for Erotic Behavior (4th Edition, 2004)

Anyway, it was a lot of fun, as it always is with T. And a little awkward only because when it's over, it's always abundantly clear that he and I have so little in common that we can't even pretend to have a conversation. He seems like a nice enough guy, but there's no there there. There's not even the cynical shell that he'll almost certainly develop in a few more years. WM, who I'd fucked the day before, is probably neither brighter nor more interesting than T., but he's got the cynicism down, so that you don't ever get to the interior to find that there's nothing there. In addition to hiding the internal void, developing the cynical shell provides you with the sixty seconds of conversational material to make the transition from hookup back to daily life a smooth one. Some people also use similar conversation for the transition from daily life to hookup, but I usually just grab the guy and kiss him. Easier and more fun.

Anyway, there's something simultaneously empty and fulfilling about having sex with people you probably wouldn't want to hold an extended conversation with. Empty in the sense that it's nice if there's some level of friendship with the guys you fuck. Fulfilling in that it's good to know that when you have nothing else in common, you can still achieve a level of intimacy through fucking. And, of course, there's the fact that it's just plain hot.

Normally, I don't ponder this sort of thing, but there's (really) no sex for a week now, and the pace of life is deliciously slow out here in the land of dial up. I'm sure when I'm back, it'll be horniness uber alles once more. Something to look forward to.

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